


Kiss The Messenger

by ghiblitears



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But also, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Love Notes, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Oh No Our New Neighbour Is Hot, Polyamory, and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates), but everyone rolls with it, proposed a date on the wrong person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-06 12:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18388877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghiblitears/pseuds/ghiblitears
Summary: What begins as an innocent date proposal ends up with an unexpected consequence, but one that isn't necessarily unwelcome -- once everyone gets past the initial awkwardness, at least.





	Kiss The Messenger

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Orion: A Shklance Zine! I had a ton of fun with this piece and loved my experience working alongside everyone. I hope anyone who's already read this has enjoyed it!  
> I feel like the summary sounds like the intro to a porno.... this is Pretty G y'all. You should know that by now. Also, I can't believe "proposed a date on the wrong person" isn't a tag here. Does that make me a trailblazer?

The conversation begins as most of theirs do  —  with an argument that should be a joke, but that they’re both entirely too invested in.

“Keith, please.”

“No.”

“ _ Keith _ .”

“I said no.”

“ Keeeeeeith ,” Lance whines. He drapes himself across the couch to pillow his head on Keith’s lap while the rest of his lanky form dangles off the couch. He stares up with eyes that plead enough to give Kosmo’s a run for their money,  motive  as  clear and  as treacherous as  cracked ice .

“Please tell me his name,” he continues, the perfect picture of innocence.

Sometimes his theatrics  do  get Keith. This time he meets Lance’s kicked-puppy gaze with a neutral expression, brows raised  to the sky . It’s lucky that in a year and a half of dating he’s managed to perfect his poker face, because otherwise Lance could get away with anything.

“Nope,” he says, and pops the ‘p’ for emphasis. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out.”

“This is so unfair,” Lance grumbles. “It’s  mean  to keep Sir Beefcake’s real name from your loving boyfriend, you know.”

The nickname does get him, enough to  break the banishment of emotion . He shifts to card his hand through Lance’s soft hair. “Sir Beefcake?” he asks. “Really?

“C’mon, you’ve seen him. He definitely works out.”

“Okay. Why ‘sir’?”

Where Keith keeps his emotions internally, Lance externalizes. The disappointment on his face backs that  statement  as a  F act. “He’s nice, and courteous, like... a knight in shining  armour , or something. Tell me you can’t picture him riding  — ”

The rest of his sentence stops short when Keith playfully pushes him off the couch.

“A horse!” he protests from the floor. “Riding a horse.  _ Ergo _ , Sir Beefcake.”

“Sure.”

Lance cranes his head back to look over his shoulder and waggles his eyebrows. “How’d you find out? Did you ask him? Did you finally develop game?”

Keith takes the ego jab less than gracefully, and r olls his eyes rather than give a mean retort . Whatever Lance is picturing, he’s sure it isn’t right.  T he name exchange had been pure accident; they’d crossed paths on his way out the door and Kosmo had sat down and offered his paw in a handshake. A cute trick, although he solely used it to covet attention as if he didn’t receive any in his own house  —  the traitor. Sir Beefcake had been captivated, face lit up in a smile that could probably be harnessed for solar power, while Keith had been powerless to do anything more than gape at the scene before him.

Too much. Too  _ cute _ . If he and Lance didn’t know how attractive they both found their next — door  neighbour , he’d feel terrible at how the sight had made his heart  pound .

Then  their  neighbour  ha d glanced up with warmth in his eyes and introduced himself, no thanks to Keith’s disaster gay moment. That had been the catalyst in their romantic rivalry, and while Lance had caught Sir Beefcake’s eye (and smile, too, he insists) on more than one occasion, he had yet to learn his real name. Even if they’ve been dating for over a year now, their competitive streak hasn’t vanished under the love and affection they have for each other. Apparently that competition extends to their mutual crush.

When Keith doesn’t comply, Lance shifts his attention to his phone. “ Whatever . I’ll find out soon enough.”

“That’s what you’d like to think.” He grins when Lance’s only response is to stick out his tongue.

Kosmo enters the room to interrupt the conversation. His nails click as he crosses the living room to his  favourite  spot on the couch. He jumps up, smacking Lance with a sweep of his plumed tail, and curls up with his head on Keith’s lap. Wide yellow eyes blink up at him. Kosmo’s pointed ears flick when a hand settles in his thick fur, and Keith takes a moment to mourn his freshly - washed jeans.

Kosmo’s life in the apartment rested on the combo of a hefty pet - deposit and the caveat that if he so much as sniffed too loudly, he had to go. No amount of reassurance or intimidation had been enough to get them a better deal than that  —  the intimidation had been Keith’s main tactic, which may have been why the landlord’s invasive gaze had lingered on him a tad longer than it had on Lance ’s innocent face .  Sappiness had won her over in the end —  it had been Lance who’d won them over, after he had spun an elaborate sob story about Kosmo’s sad life in the street. Even their stone - faced landlord had sympathized by the end. It  was still one of  the most impressive ass - pulls Keith had ever seen. As much as he likes to pretend otherwise, Lance does love his dog.

For that, Keith decides to show him some mercy.

“It’s Shiro,” he says casually. He holds his poker face again when Lance  snaps to attention  like a bloodhound catching a scent . “That’s his name. Are we even?”

“We’ll get there,” Lance replies. Contemplation plays across his face. “Shiro. It fits.”

“Better than ‘Sir Beefcake’.”

“Shush, Mullet. You love my nicknames.” The way Lance follows his words with a wink shouldn’t be as charming as it is, and yet Keith can’t help but be charmed anyway. Predictable.  At least this way Keith is the only one who has to put up with a dumb nickname. It’s probably for the better.

***

“You know, Keith never appreciates my romantic gestures.”  Lance  fiddles with Kosmo’s collar in an attempt to make the metal dog tag sit straight. He clamps one hand around the band to keep him from bolting while the other holds a small handwritten note, folded in a tight square to fit over the tag. “I know deep down he secretly does, but not on the surface, you know? He’s all, “Lance, just text me if you want to go on a date. It’s more practical’. Where’s the fun in that?”

Kosmo doesn’t offer his opinion on love languages or his less — than — stellar Keith impression. Instead he fixes him with a look of apathy that Lance is pretty sure he inherited from Keith. Their resemblance is uncanny enough to be kind of hilarious  –  they have the same vacant stare when Lance tells a joke they don’t understand, possess similarly untamable hair, and both take up too much of the bed at night. Lance has been cuddled into near - oblivion more than once, because neither of them seem to understand the concept of personal space. Somehow these are all qualities that endear rather than annoy him.

He meets the stare with his own pout, but by now Kosmo has lost interest. The note finally finds purchase and Lance sits back to admire his handiwork. It’s clearly visible on the dog tag, the bright white paper a true beacon against Kosmo’s dark fur. He’d penned a single heart onto the outside to catch Keith’s attention, and a quick mental recall of the contents make him beam with pride.

Date? You and me. Just name when and where . ;  )

The  winky  face may be a bit much, but Lance has never been a subtle person. Neither is Keith, though, and he takes solace in that. Their awkward confession last year backs it up; a confession that had only occurred because Lance had been a little too enthusiastic with his flirting and Keith a little too dense to recognize it. It’s still burnt into his memory, no matter how hard he tries to scrub it clean, although he’s grateful that their relationship’s initial clumsiness seemed to have found its footing by now.

He brushes stray dog hair off his jeans before he plants his hands authoritatively on his hips. “Okay, Kosmo. Do this right and we’ll both be winners. I’m counting on you!”

Kosmo sneezes once and shakes his whole body —  an indicator Lance has learned means he’s lost Kosmo’s attention . Then his ears prick up at a sound across the apartment, and in an instant he’s out of the room to investigate. All Lance can do in response is shrug; Kosmo will find Keith sooner or later, because among the universe’s few constants is the fact that those two aren’t apart for long.

All he can do now is wait.

***

Shiro wakes from an unintended nap to find himself with his face coated in dog drool. If he owned a dog, this would not be a surprise.

When he blinks awake his vision is filled with a pair of yellow eyes that stare into his with  animalistic  intensity. He'd bolt upright in panic  if the  beast  weren’t seated  on his chest, crushing him back into the couch and holding him in place with two wide paws. His mind summons a fresh fear of werewolves in a dismissal of outright logic, and he wheezes out his shock instead when  the beast  stands and leaps off him.

He stares. The dog  —  it  _ is  _ a dog, and he mentally chides himself for even considering the possibility of  lycanthropy—  stares back. In fact, it’s a dog he knows. It belongs to the two guys who live across the hall  —  Keith and Lance, names he’d learned from overheard conversations in the stairwell and from the time he’d had to return some misplaced mail. He’d introduced himself to Keith the other week... but what had the dog been called? A space - themed name, or something.

“Uh... Nebula? Galaxy? Cosmos?” The last one earns him a pair of pricked ears. “...Kosmo?”

The bottle-brush tail sweeps back and forth in  affirmation . Kosmo sits obediently and tilts his head to watch him puzzle out the situation.

Shiro immediately searches the entire apartment. Both the front and back doors are closed (and locked!) and none of the windows are open. Kosmo follows him throughout the inspection and sniffs around each doorway in his own investigation. They find nothing. It’s as though the dog had simply teleported into his apartment while he slept.

“Well, I have no idea how you did it,” Shiro says, crouching down to Kosmo’s level to run his hand through the silky fur. “but I should probably take you back. It’s not that you’re unwelcome,  but your people are probably looking for you.”

A glance at his collar confirms his home across the hall with Keith, but his attention quickly slides to the square of folded paper taped to the tag. If the heart drawn on the outside wasn’t already enough of an eyebrow-raiser, the confusing proposal inside is.

He stops. Reads the note again. A third time, for good measure. It’s only one sentence but  it  makes him start introspecting fast.

Huh.

He’d been convinced those two were dating. Apparently, he’d assumed wrong.

Now that he thinks of it, they’ve both been friendly to him. They’ve held the door for him and returned his greetings when their paths have crossed in the hallway, but that seemed to be the extent of their relationship with him. He didn’t dare to think that one of them had taken a romantic interest in him and yet that appears to be the case. Not that he’s complaining, especially since  they’re both cute –  Lance with his blue star - filled eyes and infectious enthusiasm, Keith with his curious stare and sweet stoicism.  Salt and caramel, the pair of them  — wonderfully complementary despite opposing  flavour  profiles.

And as it happens, Keith isn’t above an amorous gesture  —  namely, a note whose contents make Shiro’s face flush and his ears burn.

Kosmo pads up next to him and paws at his leg.

“Was this your idea?” he asks, amused. Kosmo doesn’t answer, but his ears flicker up attentively at his voice. “I guess I can ask when I give Keith my answer.”

He leads Kosmo out of the apartment, one hand on his collar as a precaution in case the dog decides to bolt. He’s lucky that the trip is simply across the hall, although he’s still trying to figure out how Keith managed to sneak the dog into his apartment. It’s  _ locked _ , for pity’s sake.  There  are  no clear answers in romance, it appears.

A commotion sounds off in the apartment when he knocks  —  an argument over who has to answer the door, by the sounds of it. Lance must be the victor, because not a moment later Keith stands before him. It takes him a moment to react, and when he does his wide - eyed gaze flickers from Shiro to Kosmo with increasing confusion. His hand lingers on the doorknob, seemingly forgotten.

“Shiro?”

“Hi,” Shiro replies. He waves with his free hand. “I have your dog.”

Keith’s stare turns comically  confused. His stare darts between the two and he quickly glances back into his apartment, as if to confirm that his dog is  outisde  rather than in. Shock slackens his face. Shiro wouldn’t have taken him for an actor, but he puts on a good show.

“How  — ?”

“I kind of hoped you’d have an answer.” Shiro smiles. When he drops Kosmo’s collar the dog trots in to sit next to Keith and look up, angel-like, at him. “Or should I give my answer first?” he asks.

Keith cocks an eyebrow. “Your answer?”

He clears his throat. “We could start with coffee. How about the café down the street?”

As first dates go it seems somewhat lackluster, but he’d expected this part to be a bit awkward — as most first dates are — so he’d done his best to make the proposal sweet instead. What he doesn’t expect is the way Keith’s expression slides from surprise to open-mouthed shock. Not exactly what he’d called  encouragement  from someone who’d showed interest in him.

“Are you asking me out?” Keith sputters, flushed red to the tips of his ears.

Shiro digs his hand into his pocket and produces the note. “Aren’t you?”

Deeper in the apartment there’s a crash, and on its  heels  Lance appears at the front door, just behind Keith. He looks even more stunned, if possible, but his expression has an  undercurrent  of concentrated mortification to it. He looks from Shiro to the note, from the note to Keith, and from Keith to Kosmo with mounting horror. When he finally comes to a conclusion his face burns as brightly as Keith’s.

“You traitor,” he hisses in Kosmo’s direction. Both hands come up to cover his face. “I can explain,” he begins,  peeking  at Shiro through his fingers.

Keith comes back to attention, stare whipped back to Lance so fast it makes the air spin. “You’d better." He jabs at the offending note. “This is your handwriting.”

Oh no.

“Yes! Because he  — ” Lance gestures wildly to Kosmo. “ —  was supposed to find you! Not Sir Beefcake!”

A two-second delay occupies the moments where the words leave Lance’s mouth and when he realizes exactly what’s slipped out. His sentence comes to a strangled halt and his gaze leaves Shiro altogether in  favour  of the floor’s blank stare. Shiro can’t read minds, but he could offer  a fair guess about Lance’s thoughts on reaction alone.

Shiro doesn’t know what it would be like to experience all of the stages of grief simultaneously at once, but he expects it’s something like this. He’s never wanted to exit a situation more, to teleport away the way K osmo  seemed to have appeared in his apartment. His stuff is still in boxes. He can transfer the lease. He could leave the city and never speak of this again.

Keith snaps out of his thousand-yard stare, enough to fix Lance with a look that toes the line of  embarrassment  and exasperation. “Texting, Lance! That’s all you have to do to get me to go on a date. Why a  _ note _ ?”

“I thought it would be cute!” Lance protests. “It worked on Shiro, didn’t it?”

Shiro fidgets under the attention. “It’s impractical  —  but yeah, I thought it was nice.”

“See?”

The correct way to fix this would be for Shiro to apologize and leave. To acknowledge it was all an accident, and then to remove himself from their doorstep. And yet another thing comes to mind to diffuse the situation instead.

“I’m sorry about this,” he begins. “I really didn’t mean to overstep boundaries, or to make this awkward  —  especially since you both barely know me. If you want, I’ll close the door and we’ll never talk about it again. But, well... you both seem sweet. Would you let me make this up to you both over coffee?”

Lance and Keith exchange a look of surprise.

“Are you asking us  _ both  _ on a date?” Lance squawks.

“It could be platonic!” Shiro backpedals.

“Platonic?” Lance echoes, at the same time that Keith blurts out “It doesn’t have to be”.

Shiro’s heart skips a beat. He has half a mind to pinch himself, because this can’t be the outcome.  It  has to be a dream. “Really?”

“I don’t think either of us objects,” Keith says, faintly pink and looking to Lance for confirmation. Lance shakes his head.

“On one condition, though,” Lance adds. “Can you please forget the name I called you? Purge it from your memory ?”

“Sir Beefcake?” he replies, amused, and the simultaneous grin from Keith and wince from Lance makes the whole thing worth it. “No guarantees.”

“I don’t know what I expected,” he sighs.

Keith digs into his pocket for his phone, opens a new contact, and hands it to Shiro. “Because my boyfriend doesn’t know how to do things the easy way, here.  How about Thursday? Lance is off work at two and I’m free until about six.”

Shiro types his number into the phone and hands it over. It’s  unbelievable . Unthinkable. And yet here he is, giving his number to two (two!) cute boys to plan a date. If it hadn’t happened before his  eyes  he would write it off as impossible.

“That sounds great. See you then?”

The two smiles (one beaming, one shy) that follow are clear enough answers.

**Author's Note:**

> Hmu on tumblr:  
> babykeithsmullet (vld only blog)  
> ghiblireys (multifandom main blog)


End file.
